


The Comfort of Touch

by sanguisuga



Series: Aberrant Fragments [18]
Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: And it's just a mention, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Greg comforts Mycroft, M/M, No Smut, Sweetness and Fluff, Touch-starved Mycroft, but not major, do not copy to another site, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 11:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18963946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguisuga/pseuds/sanguisuga
Summary: Mycroft is in distress. Greg comforts him in an unexpected way.





	The Comfort of Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrynTWedge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynTWedge/gifts).



> A short piece that was sort of inspired by a fleeting conversation in the Mystrade twitter group. I don't think it's really what they had in mind, as the words 'skin-hungry' were floating around, and this isn't about hunger as much as, well - comfort. Still, I hope it's adequate. 
> 
> Comments are always welcome, and help to feed the muse. She's feeling poorly lately - help to boost her spirit!
> 
> (For BrynTWedge, the resident dragon bro, as a very belated birthday gift.)

Mycroft looked up at the sound of the soft knock on his office door, blinking himself out of the fugue that he had unexpectedly fallen into. Not entirely sure that his legs would support him if he went to answer, he instead hit the button under his desk to buzz his visitor in.

He let out a shaky breath as Detective Inspector Lestrade shuffled in, his face gravely concerned. Mycroft sighed inwardly, both annoyed that the Universe couldn't see fit to grant him clemency for one bloody day and also relieved that he might now have a different problem to focus on.

He stood with barely a wobble, tugging his waistcoat down as he rounded his desk, holding out his hand in his usual greeting. "What has Sherlock done-"

Mycroft's voice died away as Lestrade stepped forward, gently but firmly enclosing his hand with both of his. He swayed on the spot as the warmth of Lestrade's touch rocked through his body. He could only close his eyes as his hand was squeezed gently, a rough voice murmuring at him softly.

"He told me." Mycroft stood there in his self-imposed darkness, a simple touch his only anchor. "About your Mum." Shaking his head blindly, Mycroft tried to withdraw, finding himself rooted to the spot as a gentle hand cupped his cheek. "Mycroft. I am _so_ sorry."

"I..." Mycroft shook his head again, unable to make his thoughts manifest in any comprehensible manner. His entire body trembled as Lestrade drew closer, tentatively sliding his arms around his waist. Whether the gesture was meant to be comfort, or simply support, he didn't know. He only knew that it was possibly the most wonderful thing he had been offered in years, maybe even decades.

Mycroft whimpered softly as the already firm grip on him tightened, shivering as broad hands slid up under his jacket and over the back of his waistcoat. He wrapped his arms around Lestrade's shoulders and allowed himself to slump into the warmth of his embrace.

He didn't know how long they stood there, only barely aware that he was being rocked gently, subconsciously soaking in each of Lestrade's whispered platitudes as a healing balm. He definitely wasn't aware of being tugged inexorably toward the sofa up against the wall of his office.

He only came back to himself as Lestrade's fingers, gentle but sure, began to comb through his hair. Mycroft's cheeks started to heat as he heard himself make a noise very like a cat purring. But he couldn't stop from leaning into that touch, tilting his head this way and that to chase after those delightfully thick fingers.

It was when he heard the low chuckle that he finally opened his eyes, his system fully rebooting itself with a start of surprise. He sat bolt upright on his unconventional perch, his brain swimming with the abrupt change in altitude.

Lestrade swiftly captured his face with both hands, shaking his head with the softest of smiles. "Shh, now. We're good. We're all okay, yeah?"

Mycroft blinked and looked down, only moderately appalled to find that he was sitting squarely in the Detective Inspector's lap. He looked up again sheepishly, his mouth working silently before words were able to form. "Your legs are going to go dead."

Lestrade grinned and gave them a little bounce. "Pain I'm willing to pay if I can make you feel better."

Mycroft frowned, once again leaning into the fingers that were playing along his jaw and neck. "Why?"

"Because you need it." Lestrade put a finger to Mycroft's lips as he started to protest. "And because I want to." Mycroft could barely draw breath as those deliciously dark eyes zeroed in on his mouth. "I've wanted to touch you for a very long time, Mycroft. I'm sorry that I only found the courage now, when you're not in a good place."

Mycroft took in a deep breath, cautiously lifting his hand and trailing his knuckles over Lestrade's cheek. "I do believe that I'm in the best place I can be, Greg."

He quirked a little smile as relief washed over Greg's features, his expression still melancholy but tempered with curiosity. "You went a bit la-la land on me there, you know. It's been a long time since you were touched, hasn't it?"

Mycroft swallowed hard. "We never were the most demonstrative family. And now we never will-"

Greg cradled Mycroft's face as he started to choke up, running his thumbs over his cheekbones. "It's okay. Let it out if you need to."

Mycroft waved a hand vaguely as he tilted his head back, blinking rapidly as he forced the tears to retreat. He smiled wanly as he succeeded in his goal, shaking his head slightly. "Not now. I need something else at the moment." He silently nuzzled into Greg's palm, his heartbeat quickening as a soft gasp echoed through the room.

"Mycroft..."

Mycroft blinked at the look in Greg's eyes, something needy but almost reluctant, and he found himself giggling softly. "No, not that. This isn't the time." He glanced around his office. "Nor the place. No." He threaded their fingers together, bringing Greg's hand back up to his cheek. "Just... More of this. Please."

Greg nodded his understanding, disentangling their fingers before reaching for the knot in Mycroft's tie. "Okay?"

Mycroft hummed his assent, something in his belly flipping as Greg hesitated a moment longer. "I'll tell you if it gets to be too much. I promise." He slipped his jacket off his shoulders, casually tossing it over the arm of the sofa. "Please, Greg."

Greg worked the knot in Mycroft's tie loose, moving with deliberate slowness as he slipped the satin from underneath the collar of his shirt and over his head. He gently ran his fingers down Mycroft's torso, once again looking for confirmation before slipping the buttons on his waistcoat open, one by one.

Mycroft sat and watched Greg's face as he worked, all of his attention seemingly focused on this one simple task. He let the material be pushed from his shoulders, tilting his head as Greg set it aside almost reverently. Mycroft smiled faintly as the elastic on his braces was snapped gently, his breath catching at the look of fond exasperation in Greg’s eyes.

He slipped out of his braces himself, letting them simply dangle at his sides as Greg reached for the buttons of his shirt. Nodding again as Greg’s eyebrow lifted inquisitively, Mycroft twitched his fingers into loose fists to keep from simply tearing it off himself. Once it was also removed, his patience finally broke as he impatiently skimmed his vest off and tossed it on the floor.

He ducked his head in embarrassment as Greg chuckled, looking up as those wonderful hands cradled his face. Sitting up straighter, Mycroft let his plea be seen in his eyes, relief flooding his system as Greg looked at him with nothing but affection in his gaze. He was astonished to realise that it wasn’t the first time he had seen that look directed at him, but that he had been too blinkered and caught up in himself to even notice it at the time.

Mycroft shifted slightly on Greg’s knees as the strong hands slid down to his neck and squeezed gently, broad thumbs sweeping along his jawline. Then they moved along to his shoulders and down, pausing at his biceps to grant another squeeze before continuing to move on, briefly grasping Mycroft’s wrists and bringing his knuckles up to Greg's lips.

Mycroft’s breath hitched slightly as he thought of the other places that those lips might touch, but he firmly pushed those images from his brain. Soon, perhaps, but not now. Greg quirked an eyebrow as he looked at him, his eyes faintly amused. Mycroft simply shook his head and tilted his chin, silently demanding more.

Greg obeyed with alacrity, running his hands back up Mycroft’s arms and across to his chest. He placed his palms flat over Mycroft's pectorals, his fingers playing along the shelf of his clavicle. He pressed down firmly, and Mycroft sighed as he pushed his chest forward, his head tilting to the side slightly.

"Beautiful."

Greg's voice was low, almost reverent, and Mycroft could only frown. It vanished when he looked at Greg's face, seeing nothing there but honesty and admiration. He felt his shoulders go back even as something in his spine softened, leaving him feeling both proud and more relaxed than he had felt in years.

Mycroft once again pressed into Greg's touch as his almost abnormally warm hands swept down his torso and back up, pausing to squeeze gently at his insubstantial love handles. Feeling as though he may simply melt on the spot, Mycroft slumped forward as Greg gently pulled him close.

He hummed tunelessly into Greg's neck as his delightful hands kept travelling over his back, cupping his scapula, his fingers playing along the ladder of his ribcage and counting the knobs of his spine.

It was after a few minutes of silent contemplation that Mycroft began to realise that he was uneasy, although he couldn't parse out why. It became almost painfully apparent to him as he shifted slightly and one of the buttons on Greg's shirt caught in his chest hair.

Wincing, he slowly pulled away, biting his lip as Greg looked at him in concern, his hands held up and away as if he had done something wrong. Mycroft shook his head, feeling his brow furrowing as he opened his mouth and failed to say anything at all.

Instead he reached up and flapped the lapels of Greg's suit jacket, immensely relieved when he received a knowing smile in return. Mycroft leant back as Greg shifted out of his jacket and undid a few buttons on his shirt before yanking it out of his trousers and up over his head.

The offending garments cast aside, Mycroft settled back into Greg's all-encompassing embrace, heaving out a shuddering sigh as skin met skin. He wriggled in place, his arms loose around Greg's waist, his cheek on his shoulder and nose nestled behind his ear.

Mycroft was lulled into near-catatonia by the steady sweeps of Greg's hands until he felt him tense almost imperceptibly underneath him. Suddenly feeling distressed, he pushed himself up again, tilting his head as Greg grinned at him somewhat sheepishly.

"What say we maybe stretch out a bit, hm?"

Mycroft pursed his lips, trying not to laugh as Greg bounced his legs under his bum somewhat weakly. Still, he was reluctant to move, hesitating until he saw Greg's eyes tighten in discomfort. Mycroft slowly pushed himself away from Greg's lap, standing a little shakily as his own legs seemed disinclined to hold him steady.

He put his fingers to his lips as Greg tilted sideways on the sofa, groaning loudly as he awkwardly kicked his shoes off and wiggled his socked feet. He stretched himself out with an almost obscene moan of relief, and Mycroft shivered where he stood. He took a moment to relieve himself of his own footwear as Greg wriggled and shifted over the cushions, finally opening his arms out to him.

"Plenty of room, Mycroft."

Mycroft nodded and turned aside to the nearby ottoman, lifting the top and extracting a pillow and a blanket from within.

Greg took them with a little laugh. "I've the same in my office, unfortunately." He paused as he arranged the pillow under his head. "We both work too hard. Maybe we can-"

Mycroft, having divested himself of his trousers while Greg was distracted, tangled his fingers together over the crotch of his pants.

Greg looked up at him in surprise. "-Help each other with that," he finished somewhat quietly.

Then he laid back again, still holding the blanket open in invitation, his eyes bold and expectant. Hesitating only briefly, Mycroft shuffled forward and reached for his belt. Receiving no immediate objection, he worked Greg's trousers loose, waiting for him to tilt his hips up before tugging them down and off.

Attempting to avoid looking at Greg's face or - other - parts, Mycroft hurriedly stretched himself out next to him. He hid his face in Greg's chest as their bare legs tangled together, shuddering faintly as he felt the blanket drape over him.

With Greg's right arm secure around his waist and his left hand cradling the back of his head, Mycroft no longer bothered to hold the tears back. He let them flow onto the broad chest under his cheek, shaking silently as his grief drained him dry. Greg didn't shush him, nor make any impossible promises that everything would be all right. He simply held Mycroft until he had exhausted himself, finally falling asleep to the steady beating of Greg's wonderful heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd or brit-picked. Characters not mine, but the situation definitely is!
> 
> If you'd like to get notifications and miscellany from tumblr, I'm at 'bitemebat.tumblr.com'. My activity there has slowed considerably since the Great Purge, but I also set up another tumblr just for notifications and other writerly stuff at 'sanguisugaao3.tumblr.com'. 
> 
> I seem to be mostly active on twitter now, although the system confuses me and I really don't post much. But still, if you'd like to follow, I'm @sanguisugaao3 there!
> 
> (I'm also over on Pillowfort.io if anyone out there is giving them a shot - as 'sanguisuga'. Same handle on Dreamwidth, but I must confess that I don't do much on either site.)


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